He takes my hand, helping me step over the pile of fabricon the floor. I lead and he doesn’t drop my hand the whole time, not until we are standing in the hotel bedroom at the foot of the bed.
I unbuckle my heels and slip them off, feeling the thick, plush carpet between my toes. Luc follows my lead, removing his shoes and blazer, trousers and shirt.
There’s no going back.
I lie down on the bed and Luc follows, running his hands up and down my bodysuit. Why do I feel so shy? So exposed?
A soft kiss, a gentle parting of my lips for his tongue. He deepens the contact and draws me on top of him, the hard length of him against my lower stomach.
Things like this with Luc aren’t new to me, but somehow, they feel different this time. More concrete, more fact than fantasy.
That this could be my life rather than a fleeting moment.
I peel the bodysuit off and curse myself for not wearing something easier to remove, something sexier. Luc takes off his boxers, and my eyes drag down his body, following the black material down his legs.
His index finger on my chin manoeuvres my head. ‘Eyes on mine, Martin,’ he whispers, his dark brown eyes dancing against the low light.
I shudder. ‘That makes me sound like a middle-aged man.’
Luc winces. ‘I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth.’
We lie next to each other, and I try to let the feeling in. The feeling of contentment, of settlement, of comfort. A feeling I’ve been trying and failing to bat off for more than a decade, knowing the feeling which usually follows: the need to run, to escape.
I lace my fingers through his and he lets me, following my lead every step of the way. I take a deep breath and place myhand on his cheek. I pause for a few moments and let the desires take me.
It’s because we’re us, not because we’re anyone, I repeat in my head, a mantra.
I can trust Luc.
‘The rules,’ he grumbles, his face millimetres away from mine. ‘Are you okay with–?’
‘Fuck the rules,’ I groan, his hand landing on my thigh. The kiss is desperate, greedy, and his hand travels upwards, drawing circles promising his wants and needs. It’s been so long since I’ve felt wanted in this way. Not only wanted but cherished.
‘Luc…’ I breathe, his kiss lingering on my lips. All at once, I’m twenty years old again. We’re in my old house, on an uncomfortable bed which I bought because I thought expensive meant good. I’m jaded in love, but less so than I am now. I still thought it was on the cards for me then, in a way that dissipated when my relationship with Luc ended.
If I was going to fall in love with anyone, it was always going to be Luc.
I run my hands over his body, his skin smooth under my fingertips. I trace every inch of him that I haven’t seen like this in a decade. The way the edges of his body have softened with age, the chest hair which has grown thicker and the long hair on his shoulder blade which refuses not to grow, no matter how many times he plucks it. He drops kisses over my body, and it’s like he doesn’t want to miss a centimetre. He’s slow with it, savouring every touch, and my body warms like I’m on a bed of hot coals.
‘Do you–’ I stop, my breath catching in my throat when he grazes his teeth on the skin at the bottom of my neck. ‘Have a…’ I manage to get out.
‘My bag,’ Luc rasps.
‘Can you?’
‘Yeah.’ His breath against my neck. When his body leavesmine, the cool air from the room caresses my entire body, drying the clamminess and leaving a sticky sheen. I fold my arms across my torso, hearing Luc double check the bolt on the door and rooting through his bag.
He hands me the foil packet, and I open it, rolling it down him. I pull him towards me, needing his body to invade my space, to cover me from the cold. To block out all the thoughts of what is going to happen tomorrow. Of what’s going to happen at the beginning of the tour. The rapidly approaching end date.
I push the thoughts away and instead let Luc’s pink cheeks, his shy smile fill every ounce of thoughts. His eyes locked on mine when he enters me, watching me groan under his weight. He guides himself inside slowly and I whimper with every centimetre he gets deeper.
‘Oh fuck,’ he says, holding one of my hands. I run my fingers up and down his back.
‘Yeah.’
‘I don’t remember it feeling like this,’ he exhales against my neck. He moves slowly, grinding against me with languid movements I never want to stop.
‘Me either.’ The pleasure rolls over me and my body is weightless, free to float up from the bed. I kiss him, his tongue brushing against mine. I need more. I speed my movements against him.
